Outlaw

Yella Belly

     Outlaws.
    That's what was raging through the western country side.
     Some of them were just simple-minded thieves; not proposing any real threat to the innocent people of the west. Others were full-blooded serial killers.
    Rebecca wasn't either of these.
    Her crime was a crime she never committed. She was blamed for the murder of her family. Having a murdered family is hard enough on a girl, being blamed for it only makes it that much harder. The only reason she was a suspect was because the deputies had no other clear leads. Rebecca was automatically assumed to have done it.
     This was two years ago. Rebecca was still on the run from the law, of course, but in many towns the story of the murders where forgotten. Replaced with more current news and more important events. No one remembered the girl who was falsely accused. If they did, Rebecca had that covered. In every new town she went to she changed her name - to cover her tracks. Her goal now was to find the man or woman who really murdered her family, and to bring them to justice.
      Rebecca now sat at the bar of a run-down saloon. Washing her biscuits and gravy down with hot whiskey. She never really drank a lot before her family's death, but dealing with the stress of hunting down an elusive murderer can really drive a girl to it.
     The run-down saloon was smack-dab in the middle of a run-down town just about 20 miles east from the Sabine River. It was hot, the middle of August. Everyone was covered in a thick coat of sweat and dust. Rebecca felt sorry for the women who still wore those thick underclothes and fancy shmancy dresses. Honestly, she thought those heavy dresses were extremely unpractical for the Wild West summers. When she did wear them, when she was younger, she could never hardly breathe at all. Although that probably explained why so many girls would randomly faint out of nowhere.
    Rebecca took another sip of her whiskey as she mused over her thoughts. A long time ago, just a little bit after her family's murder, Rebecca converted to pants. Everywhere she went women and men both were shocked to see a woman in such scandalish clothing. Rebecca didn't care though, it saved her from the heat. She couldn't risk dying of heat stroke just yet, she still had a murderer to find.
     "Anything else for ya' ma'am?"
     Rebecca was shook out of thoughts. The man behind the bar looked at her with questioning eyes. "No, sir," Rebecca answered, slapping down a Spanish gold coin on the bar-top, "Thanks though."
      "No problem, ma'am, anytime," the man replied, gladly taking the gold coin after checking that it was real.
      Rebecca stood, pushing the stool out from under her and walking around to a group of men playing cards at another table. While she was here, she might as well try to find some information out.
     Rebecca lingered over one of the men's shoulders. He had a really good hand. She wouldn't be surprised if he won.
      "You ain't a fish are ya'?" asked the man. He was referring to when the other player would hire a person to look and see what cards their opponent had. Then with some sort of hand signal or wink they could communicate what cards their opponent had.
     "Of course not," Rebecca retorted, slightly offended at the suggestion of it, "I just wanna see the outcome of the match."
    "Well, hun," said the man across the table, laying down his cards, "Now you have. I win."
      Rebecca raised an eyebrow, "I ain't too sure about that, hun," she said sarcastically. She hated it when men called her names such as 'hun' or 'dear' or, even worse, 'sweetheart'.
      "What?"
      The man who Rebecca was standing behind laid his cards down. A smirk formed on his face as his opponent's eyes grew wide.
      "I win."
       The other man shot up, "You damn blasted cheater!"
       The man said nothing as he collected his winnings from the round.
      Rebecca laughed to herself as the loser stormed out of the saloon, cursing all the way.
     The man who won looked up at her, "Well? Wanna play?"
      The man was of a muscular build, with tan skin and dark hair. Stubble dotted his sharp chin. Clear brown eyes stared back at her. He was definitely an attractive son of a gun.
     "'fraid I can't. Got a few things I gotta do." Rebecca fibbed. She would love to play, but she already wasted too much money playing poker. Her cash was about gone. And what would she do then? Probably be dead after long.
     "You're just saying that because you lost all your money," laughed the handsome man.
     "Not all of it."
     The man laughed again, "Sounds like something a person who lost all their money would say."
     "Oh, shut up," Rebecca snapped.
     "What's your name?" the fella questioned.
       "Rebecca, yours?"
        "Ford."
        "That's a down right moronic thing to name your kid," Rebecca sniffed, wiping her sweaty palms on her pants. Insults were her only comfort at those who witnessed her naivety at things such as poker.
     "Not as moronic as Rebecca."
      Now it was Rebecca's turn to laugh, he got her on that one. "I like you, Ford. You got class."
     "What's a girl like you doing all the way out here anyway?" Ford gave the girl a smirk.
     "Looking for a job opportunity for starters. You got anything I could do?" Rebecca inquired.
    "Actually," started Ford as he stuffed his deck of cards in his shirt pocket, "I do. But it ain't for the likes of you. It's not woman's work."
    "Who's a man to say something ain't woman's work? That's only for a woman to decide for her own self," she retorted. Oh. So he was that kind of man. The kind of man that annoyed her the most. The kind who judged biased on if you had a jingle or not.
    "Robbing trains isn't woman's work, girlie."
    This only fueled Rebecca's inner fire, girlie? Who gave him the right to call her that? "I'll show you what isn't woman's work! Tell me where to sign up!"
    Ford stood up, "Fine. You start tomorrow. Meet the rest of us behind the abandoned barn at dawn. We'll see who's right then."
   "Fine then!" Rebecca snapped. She'd never been so annoyed before. His handsomeness was ruined now. She couldn't stand annoying men. "And I take back what I said about you having class!"
   "Don't say I didn't warn you, sweetheart."
    "Don't you sweetheart me you dim-witted, rat-eating, yella-bellied, jerk!" Rebecca yelled as he walked out of the saloon.
    Oooh, she was so gonna show him. She'll be the best train robber the world has ever seen. And she'll do it without killin' nobody!
    Rebecca stomped out of the saloon with new resolve. She'll find her family's killer as soon as she robs more trains than Ford does! She was going straight out to the field to practice target shooting. Rebecca wasn't about to be pushed around by some pretty boy idiot.